


There are no gods in this home we have made

by thereisnocowboyemoji



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018), The Song of Achilles
Genre: Established Relationship, LOVE BITCH, M/M, Soft Porn, also not really canon era, and lemme tell you, anyway, but i also have hades this year, but they speak like it bc these boys are weird & I feel like, does it ever feel like you’re the only one who does ??, dry humping (?), i just want them to be happy ok, in modern aus they would talk like they’re ancient, it is tradition for me to read tsoa every year @ thanksgiving, its whenever you want it to be, my heart is horny for these boys, o also, ok listen, old beyond their years, so i did, to be totally honest, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:33:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27749806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereisnocowboyemoji/pseuds/thereisnocowboyemoji
Summary: “Patroclus. My husband.”Or, I wanted sweet porn bc my heart is truly yearning, you know?
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus
Comments: 11
Kudos: 180





	There are no gods in this home we have made

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy fellers! Hope you enjoy this! Never in my life have I ever written anything for Achilles and Patroclus, even with how much I love them and how much they mean to me but this year hit different so. I thought I’d try. Let me know if you guys see any mistakes or anything, this is not beta read!! 
> 
> Enjoy!!!

“Patroclus.”

There is no response, at first. The room is dark and quiet, the moonlight barely peaking in through the edge of the window that is not covered by curtains. The stillness lingers for a moment longer before the man in question shifts, his head twisting just barely to face where the voice came from.

“Patroclus.” There is a hand on his waist, warm. Always warm. Patroclus sighs, smiling. “Patroclus. My husband.”

A feeling erupts in Patroclus’ chest that he can’t put words to but he hopes he never gets used to it, hopes he never stops feeling the warmth and love and comfort that he feels in his heart, spread through his veins and buried in his lungs. 

“Achilles.” The word is barely more than a whisper but Patroclus still feels Achilles smile against his neck, feels the soft lips pressed to his nape. “My husband.”

A hand grips Patroclus’ hips and pulls him backwards, flush against Achilles’ chest. Patroclus reaches back, lets his hand rest on Achilles’ thigh, squeezes the warm skin there. Heat pools in his gut when Achilles’ breath hitches. The man had always been vocal, never scared of showing off. Even when they were kids and they would spit olive pits at each other, laughing loudly when they landed in each other’s ears or when Achilles would boast his strength in a thumb war, their unworn hands soft against each other as their thumbs wrestled- desperate to touch each other, to be close to each other but only in ways that young boys know how to be.

When they get older, it is the whines and moans that Achilles lets out when Patroclus is touching him, warm hands against burning skin and Achilles is loud, so loud and Patroclus is scared his mother will hear but Achilles does not want him to stop so he doesn’t. He is quickly pulled away from worried thoughts by Achilles’ hot mouth and his desperate pleas. 

“Husband.” Patroclus shifts so he can face him, lips pressed so closely together that they are breathing each other’s breaths. “Why do you wake me so early?”

His tone is teasing and Achilles cannot resist kissing him, soft but quick and he cannot resist kissing him again when Patroclus moves, thick and strong thigh in between Achilles’ legs, pushing up as his hands grip Achilles’ lovely hips, holding him still. 

“Patroclus.” He whines against his lips, hips trying to move for more friction, hands settling gently into Patroclus’ beautiful hair. “Please. Do not tease.”

“Tease? I would never.” He says as his grip tightens and Achilles whimpers. They know there will be bruises tomorrow and Patroclus softens the blow with a kiss to a strong jaw, warm and disarming smile on his face as he pulls back to look at Achilles. 

“Patroclus.” Achilles pouts and Patroclus’ heart grows. “I have need of you.”

Patroclus hums and keeps his grip tight as he moves his thigh, rubbing it against Achilles. 

“You think me a tease?” He asks though he knows the answer. Achilles has told him, in between sobs and moans with desperate hands clutching their sheets, that he is cruel. He pulls his thigh down to immediately hike it back up again. Achilles bites his lip and Patroclus removes it from between white teeth with two fingers and he pushes them into Achilles mouth instead, only down to the knuckle. 

Achilles groans when he tries to move his hips and finds that he cannot. He is, as he has so often been, at Patroclus’ mercy. 

“You think this cruel, husband?” Patroclus’ breath is in Achilles’ ear and they are so close. There is no room between them, only heat and love and Achilles cannot answer though he tries. His replies are muffled, spoken between sucking on Patroclus’ fingers and letting desperate sounds escape his throat. He is nothing of the composed man that so many people see, that so many people know him as and he could not love this more, could not revel in the heat that sits low in his gut when Patroclus removes his fingers and grips his jaw, grip tight and strong- Patroclus is so strong, yet he is so gentle- and forces Achilles to make eye contact. 

“Achilles.” His voice is deep, hitting a specific tone that has Achilles trying to rut down, to rub his cock against Patroclus’ thigh but it is no use. “I have barely done a thing and you are already so needy.” 

Patroclus’ tone is fond and Achilles moans, tugging Patroclus down so he can kiss him, hard and sweet and he pulls back to breathe, panting into Patroclus’ mouth as he says, “You make me so, husband. Only you, I swear it.” 

“I know, my Achilles. I know.” 

Patroclus kisses him again and continues to move his thigh. His grip on Achilles’ hips loosens and he moves his hand all over the tan body, rubbing his nipples when he comes across them, squeezing and caressing and kissing, all while Achilles is losing himself. Patroclus keeps him steady, though, encouraging him and only when Achilles is too wrecked, his thrusts uncoordinated and sloppy, does he roll them over, strong arms pushing Achilles into the bed as he humps against him, kissing Achilles as the man comes, body taut and lips hot. 

When he finishes he is breathing hard, eyes closed and Patroclus grabs the hand that is tangled in his hair and pulls it down to his own cock, wrapping Achilles’ strong fingers around him and moving him from his grip on Achilles’ wrist. 

“Achilles,” he moans, airy and he will not take his eyes off Achilles, how they are staring at him with so much love and adoration that Patroclus cannot handle it. When Achilles leans up on his elbow, hand moving faster against Patroclus, and whisper Patroclus’ name, the man finishes, eyes squeezed shut as his body wracks and his husband pulls him into a kiss. 

They fall onto the bed together, breathless and smiling and Achilles’ head is resting on Patroclus’ chest, hands drawing pointless circles on the skin. 

“Was that the fifth one tonight?” Patroclus asks, voice loud in the silence of the room. 

“No. Sixth.”

“Six?”

There is an obvious question in Patroclus’ voice and Achilles smiles, cheeks warm though he is not blushing. Achilles is hardly ever shy, especially about things such as this. 

“In my dream. That is why I woke up.” Achilles presses a kiss to his husband’s shoulder. “Even in sleep, my body and soul craves yours.” 

Patroclus hums, holding his heart close to him, eyes closing as sleep begins to tug at him. He loves this man, he knows. Every piece of him that is stitched together to make the god in front of him. He loves him and is loved in return. 

“Our soul is one, Achilles. Of course it is going to crave the other half.” 

Patroclus falls asleep to Achilles’ even breaths.

**Author's Note:**

> achilles is a bottom and i will fight socrates abt it tf


End file.
